


What If Everything's A Lie?

by carissima_detectus (itainttreason)



Category: Inception (2010), Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:28:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itainttreason/pseuds/carissima_detectus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sherlock belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock BBC belongs to BBC. Inception belongs to the guys who did Inception, not me.</p><p> This was honestly going to be a serious fic. But oops, it's 12:30 at night. What can I say? Insane silliness is bound to happen, what with Martin Freeman with grapes for eyes and Moftiss. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Ok..... Bye now <3</p></blockquote>





	What If Everything's A Lie?

For Sherlock this had been an ordinary day. A crime committed and solved in due time, the Reichenbach paintings had been recovered. But he knew something was slowly picking up speed in the distance, a problem to solve the intricate web of delicate crime. A problem to end it. 

He glared at the cuff links that lay on the coffee table in front of his armchair in which he sat, curled up in a ball. He hadn't wanted to thank the man for the gift, (he didn't wear cuff links- they were too catchy and snagged on things) but John had made him. John had also made him thank the boy for the tie (which he also wouldn't wear) but at least he hadn't had to verbally thank Scotland Yard for their gift, the infernal deerstalker. He knew it was a jab at him, an attempt to make fun, but he ignored it. 

John, at the present, was typing away at his blog which he had recently populated with fanciful records of Sherlock's cases. Sherlock didn't like them that much. He thought they added to much 'romance' and they flattered him, and that they strayed too much from the case and the actual facts. But soon, he knew, this would all be over. He reflected on Jim's words: "It'll start very soon, Sherlock. The Fall. But don't worry, falling's just like flying except there's a more permanent destination." He hadn't told anyone all of the details about their conversation. John was worried about it, but Sherlock didn't really want to talk about it, so John left him alone knowing he wouldn't get a word out of him if he didn't want to talk. So he left him to his silence.  
~x*x~  
Sherlock had done it.

 

He had solved the Final Problem. And now it was time for him to factor in as a variable and to fall. 

He stood on the edge, glancing down at the people that had been his charges for so long. The ones he had protected, the ones he had saved... The ones that now ridiculed him and left him stripped and barren as a fraud. And John. He looked to John as Jim's blood pooled on the rooftop and as he tilted forward, falling, falling fast and coat flapping like the wings of a frantic bird caught in the panic of a whirling tornado.

 

He heard his name, howled in a scream of pain. 

"SHERLOCK!"

Impact. 

Nothing. A flash of pain, awful pain.

Then.....

~x*x~

A man hazily blinked awake. A tube with a thick needle was lanced into his arm, and he ripped it out. He struggled to his feet and looked around in utter confusion. "J-John?" His voice was mangled and confused. Another man was also coming to... He knew that face. 

"You!" Benedict spluttered in rage. Andrew blinked in surprise. 

"You! But... No. How did it fail? How did the plan fail?!" Andrew started to scream halfway through the sentence, not unlike the infamous criminal he had been for the last 30-odd years. Or... The criminal he had thought he was. "How did you survive?! How did I survive?" he moaned, covering his face with his hands in despair.

Someone laughed from the PA. 

 

"Welcome back, gentlemen. The filming for Sherlock season 3 will begin soon, so I hope you're ready for the read-through. This is Steven Moffat, your captain speaking," here he was cut off, "and I'm Mark Gatiss, co-pilot-" now Mark was cut off by an indignant shout.

"Mycroft?!" Benedict was utterly confused and furious. Someone walked by down the hallway with grapes for eyes. Wait, no, they had just placed grapes over their eyes to be silly. "John?!" Benedict yelped, running to him. Martin turned. 

"Oh, is that you, Ben? C'mon, it's time for the read-over," he said, turning to Benedict then walking down the hallway again. Benedict went back to the chair he had been seated in and sat back down again, only to curl up into a ball and rock himself quietly, sure that he was going insane. Andrew still had his face covered, but he spread his fingers to look at Benedict. "Sherlock?" he mumbled.

Benedict shook his head. "Not anymore."

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock BBC belongs to BBC. Inception belongs to the guys who did Inception, not me.
> 
> This was honestly going to be a serious fic. But oops, it's 12:30 at night. What can I say? Insane silliness is bound to happen, what with Martin Freeman with grapes for eyes and Moftiss. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Ok..... Bye now <3


End file.
